


Beautiful

by sunnyamazing



Series: Baby "Spot" Montague-Budd [2]
Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Humour, PM Montague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 13:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21321181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnyamazing/pseuds/sunnyamazing
Summary: “He found her most beautiful not when she was all fancied up, but when she wasn’t. When she was lying on the carpet, her hair all a mess, laughing about something that had happened years ago. When she wasn’t trying to impress anyone, and taken down that wall she built for most people. That’s when he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.”David and Julia: following on from ‘Because of Something.’Inspired by the above quote that I found on Pinterest.
Relationships: David Budd/Julia Montague
Series: Baby "Spot" Montague-Budd [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1548067
Comments: 6
Kudos: 74





	Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> I found the quote on Pinterest and immediately I wanted to continue the adventures of David, Julia and baby Spot.  
For the girls of the GC, thank you for being so welcoming to me in the last month! None of these words would exist without all of you!

The press are there as they always are. They wait like bed bugs for something to feed upon. Some figment of new information they can apparently turn into a story. But he is cleverer now, he’s able to ignore them, he never gives them anything. 

Their questions are now only about the baby and they’ve started calling him ‘Sir,’ a strange departure from when he was called ‘toy boy’ or ‘PS Budd’ and even just ‘husband of the PM’. Once he was called just ‘hubby’ and that had annoyed him more than it should have ... he’d had the last laugh though. That journalist had had their access denied, they were no longer permitted. There are many perks to being married to the most powerful woman in England; besides the Queen, banning journalists is just one of them.

_“Sir, how is the PM today?”_

_“Any sign of the baby?” _

_“Are you going to tell us their name?” _

_“Is it a boy or a girl? The bookmakers need to know.”_

Still he doesn’t answer. He smiles politely through his teeth and then moves quickly towards the front door. The door opens as if it is on some invisible string. It opens as if it is magic, David had seen the door open many times on television. He never really considered how the door opened but now he knows there is an officer stationed right beside the door. He smiles as he sees the officer who has opened it tonight. It is Tom. They exchange a nod of hello as David slips inside. His PPO follows close behind him. 

He sometimes finds it amusing he now is protected like he used to protect her. For the longest time he refused to be followed around; he knows he can look after himself. Protecting people was his job, surely it seems strange that now he needs to be protected. However, as the birth of their child comes increasingly closer; someone has declared that he’d needed to be safe.

He’d not had the heart to argue with her one night recently when she had been pacing the hallway waiting for him to come home. Her hand clutching at her belly, as soon as she had seen him she’d fallen into his arms sobbing. She had wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled into his neck and then had cried some more. He’d only taken a detour home from work to bring her home some flowers.

He had given them to her, telling her they were because of her difficult cabinet meeting where she’d had been discussing who was to take care of what while she was on leave. She’d clutched the flowers in her hands and then she had cried for another five minutes. But when the crying was over, she’d chewed him out for worrying her. Living with his pregnant wife was nothing short of fascinating at the moment.

After that disagreement he had agreed; he would accept a protective officer when he was out in public and only then. He would still drive himself to and from work, but unexpected trips would involve a PPO.

He had also been determined to choose his own PPO and she had agreed with him. He had chosen PS Joseph Baxter; a burly tall man who he knew from before the army. His cousin had dated one of PS Baxter’s cousins and they’d met a few times. He’d been pleasantly surprised when he’d seen a familiar name and had immediately chosen PS Baxter from the long line up. 

The journalists are still shouting as the door of Number 10 closes behind David and PS Baxter. He can hear them faintly behind him.

_“Any sign of the baby?”_

This one question is their most favoured. If he was to answer them, he knows what his response would be: there is no sign of the child being born (not just yet!) but there are signs of their impending arrival everywhere. 

There is a room upstairs in the private residence he has painted three times. First it was yellow, then a pale green and now it is back to yellow again. He has refused to pick up another paint brush until the baby is born now. Just in case she changes her mind again.

He wonders if she will want it to be a shade of pink or blue once the baby is here. They can’t decide now; because even they don’t know the gender. They’ve discussed finding out, they’ve been asked a few times if they wanted to know, but each time they’ve come to the decision to wait. They have a name for each gender, she’s picked the boy and he the girl name. But at the moment, he’s still calling the bump; Spot.

She hates him doing so, but he’d thought of it as soon as she’d told him she was pregnant. The two of them laying in their bed, he’d tripped over her shoes and found her half-awake in bed with all of her clothes on. He’d been worried she was sick; he hadn’t expected to be told about Spot, but he had been. And despite her numerous protests the name Spot has stuck.

He even thinks he caught her the other night calling the bump Spot.

_He smiles as he hears her voice from behind the closed office door, it is late. Past the time she should be upstairs and resting. But as soon as she had finished eating she had leapt (well as best as she can at the moment!) from her seat and told him she had had a burst of speech writing motivation. It is now an hour and a half later, he steps closer to the office door. His hand reaches out for the handle. _

_“It is through a joint effort with my team and on the part of all of you, my fellow citizens, that we will be able to achieve the goals we set out when I entered this role.” He can hear her speaking; her voice is as clear as day and full of the passion and political skill he has grown to love and admire. He may not agree with many of her policies; but he certainly loves her passion for her country and the people who call it home. _

_He is about to push open the door, when he hears her voice lower, he can barely hear her, he leans his ear to the door. “What do you think Spot? Think your Mum can pull this off?” He feels himself fall just a little bit more in love with her in this moment. He carefully opens the door just a sliver, her back is turned to him and he can see her pacing the carpet. One hand is on her belly, he can see her arm moving back and forward. He watches her for just a second, totally in awe of her and all that she is able to do. _

_“I don’t know about Spot,” he begins softly as he enters the room behind her, “but I know you can do this.” _

_He watches as she turns to face him, a mixture of surprise, amusement and a little bit of annoyance crosses her face, “David,” she begins, “what did I tell you about calling our child Spot?” _

_He raises one of his eyebrows, “but,” he protests, “I swear you just said Spot.” He adds as he reaches out to place his hand over hers; their fingers interlocking over the swell of her belly. _

_She shakes her head, “I did nothing of the sort.” _

_“Are you sure?” he questions as he leans in to press his lips against hers. _

_“I was complaining about my shoes not fitting any longer.” Julia mumbles into his lips, as she kisses him back. _

_David tilts his head to the side, “shoes?”_

_She nods and gestures down towards her stockinged feet, “I’ve not been able to wear shoes all day. I had to take a meeting with Roger of all fucking people with no shoes on.” _

_David smirks, he can’t help enjoying the moments when she expresses her displeasure about her ex-husband. “And did he realise?” he questions with a laugh. _

_“Well no,” Julia replies, “but I knew and that’s just as bad.” _

_He raises his eyebrow once more, “are you sure you aren’t just trying to change the subject? I think we should ask Spot.”_

_Julia narrows her eyes at him as he leans his head downwards, “David,” she begins, “I know our child will be clever, but talking from in there, somehow I doubt that is possible.” _

_“Aye,” he says with a smile, “I know that, but just give it a chance.” _

_Julia laughs and rolls her eyes. _

_“So,” David commences, “baby Spot Montague-Budd, did your mother just call you Spot? The name she allegedly hates.” _

_He waits expectantly and she laughs at him again, “see, nothing …” she begins, but she doesn’t get the chance to complete her sentence because baby Montague-Budd does have something to say. _

_Their faces meet in surprise as both of them feel a swift kick just above where their hands were joined. _

_“There is only one problem,” David said as he smiled at his wife, “which of us did Spot agree with?” _

_Julia smirked as she runs her other hand through the front of David’s hair, curling a strand around her forefinger. “They agreed with me. Definitely me.” _

_David laughed as he leant down and kissed her bump, “I’m not going to win this argument, am I?” _

_Julia smirked, “you’re married to the Prime Minister. I would have thought you’d realised that by now.” _

_“Well,” he began, “Prime Minister, I think it is time for you and baby Prime Minister to come to bed. You should be resting.”_

_Julia laughed, “that could be worse than Spot.” _

_“Whatever the name,” David began as he moved their interlocked hands away from the bump and gently tugged her towards the open door, “you belong in bed with me.” He added whispering in her ear, before he kissed her behind the back of her ear. _

_He felt her shiver, “Mr Budd, I thought you said I was meant to be resting.” _

_David smirked, “I’ll argue about it in bed.” _

David smiles to himself as he enters the long hallway of the main house, she had eventually agreed to join him in bed. Until he had woken up a few hours later and found her back in her office working on her speech once again. She had told him she was happy with the ending of the speech but not the first half. He’d tried to convince her she could wait until morning. However as usual she had had other ideas. As far as he recalled the speech was set down for one week from today. It is to be her last public engagement before her leave.

PS Baxter looks towards David expectantly, David then looks down at the bags he is holding. He had stopped at three places after work; one bag contains their dinner another holds a new pair of shoes. Pregnancy friendly but still in the Montague style that he has become accustomed to.

The final bag holds a present for baby Spot; a yellow cashmere baby blanket. He’d ordered it weeks ago when Julia was in her first yellow phase. He hopes she still likes yellow now.

PS Baxter helpfully takes the dinner from David and assures him he is fine to take it to the kitchen for it to be plated and then brought to the two of them. He almost laughs, dirty burgers and chips are now plated in the Downing Street kitchen and brought to him and his wife for dinner on a regular basis. The chef here has tried to replicate their favourites; however, he has so far been unsuccessful. David thinks he’s almost got them down pat, Julia declared the last time that the sauce to salad was ratio was not correct. David now watches as PS Baxter disappears down the hall, leaving him alone.

He can hear noise from most of the other rooms on this floor. It is always a hive of activity down here. Politicians, security personnel and assistants fill every room for the most part; and then there is him. The PPO turned husband; he’s used to it now. This house may be always full of people at her beck and call but he knows he’s the person she often wants to see most and he feels the same about her.

He checks his watch, he assumes he will find his wife in her office still. She has a habit to be in there far too late into the night for someone who is growing a human; however, as she constantly reminds him she is not only growing one human but responsible for millions more. So, he’s stopped arguing with her; for now. 

He knows she has much to do before she steps down to official leave in about a fortnights time; she’s already expressed her concerns about leaving it to her deputy. But David has reassured her they aren’t leaving Downing Street for anywhere else. She will just spend more time upstairs in the private residence than she has in the past. She will be able to, within reason come downstairs to her office whenever she deems it appropriate. She’d then raised an eyebrow and asked if that was the case then why did she need leave at all. He’d reminded her, it was her idea about the leave and she had decided when and how long she was to take.

He adjusts the remaining bags in his hands and moves to the end of the hallway. He turns left toward her office, passing by the desk of her principal private secretary.

“Evening Oliver,” he says with a smile.

“Sir,” Oliver replies as he looks upwards from his computer.

“Still working?” David questions as he notices the large pile of paper work next to the young man. The top page is covered in notes from his wife, a recognisable ‘J’ signed off at the bottom. David doesn’t envy Oliver in the slightest; especially lately.

Oliver nods and smiles politely, “she’s not here,” he adds as David begins to move towards Julia’s closed office door. David turns back to look at him. “She’s gone home,” Oliver states plainly. Using his fingers to make air quotes about the word 'home'. David nods by way of appreciation and begins to leave the room, “Sir,” Oliver calls after him, “good luck, you’re going to need it.”

David holds back a smirk, clearly his wife has chewed out the good secretary, but he can possibly imagine he might have deserved it. 

“Don’t stay all night,” David responds and he can hear Oliver sigh loudly. 

David moves back the way he has come and detours via the kitchen, he collects their now plated dinner and tucks the shopping under his arm and carries the tray with both hands. He tells the rest of the staff that they will be fine for the rest of the evening and he will see them all in the morning. 

If she’s frustrated with Oliver who she often refers to her as her favourite person in the house other than him then he knows she will not want to be disturbed by anyone else. Emergencies permitting, of course. 

He reaches the front door where the private residence begins, the officer stationed on the door smiles and opens it for him and he slips inside. He can hear her voice as the lock clicks shut, “Oliver I swear if that’s you ...” she begins.

-x-x-x- 

Prime Minster Julia Montague is laying in the middle of the main room of her private residence. She has one lone sofa cushion under her head and she is flat on her back. By all intents and purposes, she has entirely had enough of today; the day had started normally enough, as normal as it could be for an almost eight-month pregnant woman who also had a country to run. But the day had gotten progressively worse and so an hour ago, she had decided she’d had enough of everyone, particularly Oliver.

She had left the office downstairs and waddled as best as she was able upstairs. As she had walked she had broken another shoe, it seemed that she was destined to be barefoot for the rest of her pregnancy. Something she didn’t think was entirely appropriate for a leader of a country.

She reached out to her left side where she had dropped the offending shoe. The clasp on the side had broken off completely, she sighed, it wasn’t the shoes fault. They clearly weren’t made for women with elephant ankles. 

She moves carefully on the carpet, she had tried to make herself comfortable on the sofa, that hadn’t worked. Then she’d tried sitting at the dining table, it hadn’t worked either. Finally, she had settled for the floor, laying down on the carpet and for the moment she felt comfortable.

She heard the door open, she almost wanted to roll her eyes, if that was Oliver again; she really couldn’t be held responsible for her actions. “Oliver, I swear if that’s you …”

David shakes his head as he sees her laying on the floor, “love?” he questions as he enters the room. He places the dinner down on the side table and places the bags on the carpet. He can just see the top of Julia’s head, her hair fanned out over the top of a cushion. He steps to the side of her and looks down at her, she appears to be absolutely exhausted.

“You…” Julia says menacingly as she sees David appear in her peripheral vision. It is not Oliver at all, but the man who is responsible for her being in this predicament. She meets his blue eyes for just a second and he smiles at her, it is fine for him to smile she thinks. But she is not smiling. An idea crosses her mind, she is still holding her broken shoe in one hand and she lifts the shoe away from her body and throws it at her husband. 

David ducks quickly as he sees the shoe coming, “Julia!” he exclaims loudly.

She laughs and laughs as she watches his eyebrows furrow at her. She has to admit it was a pretty good throw, the bowling skills she had learnt as a boarding school child still existed.

He watches as her face breaks out in laughter, her whole body shakes and he wonders if she has lost her mind for just a second. But as he watches her laugh, he realises again just how beautiful she actually is; even if she is throwing things at him. She doesn’t usually throw things, she is normally so composed, so conscious of impressing people, the perfect Prime Minster. But this woman lying on the floor, she’s the woman that he is only allowed to see, his Julia.

He carefully moves to sit down beside her, he moves to be level with her face as her eyes move to stare at him.

“I’m sorry,” she says, still smiling. David smiles back at her, he can sense a ‘but,’ coming. “But,” she continues, “you deserved that!”

He raises an eyebrow as he leans down to press a chaste kiss to her lips. “I deserve to have shoes thrown at me?” he questions her as he shuffles to lay beside her. He reaches out to pat her stomach and then moves the same hand to press against the side of her hip where she had complained of being sore last night.

Julia groans loudly, as the magic of David’s fingers release the pressure from her lower body which she has felt all afternoon. “Okay,” she whispers, “if you can do that then maybe you don’t deserve shoes …” her voice trails off as David’s fingers now move to her lower back, she feels her anger beginning to dissipate. But she’s still a little bit angry. She holds up her hand, “you don’t get to just come in here and do that and make me less angry with you.”

David chuckles, as he removes his fingers from her back, “Julia,” he whispers to her softly, “why are you angry at me?”

“Well for one, you stopped what you were doing,” she replies as she reaches out for his hand and moves to place it back on the side of her hip. 

David holds back the impulse to roll his eyes, living with his wife at the moment was a lesson in being prepared for everything. He moves his fingers back to the side of her back and then moves upwards toward the top of her shoulders. He is laying on his stomach now, he is balancing his head on one of his palms as his other hand continues to press against Julia’s aches and pains.

Julia turns to glare at him again, “you know,” she begins, “it is a little unfair to see you laying on your stomach when I cannot.”

“So, you’d prefer me to stop?” David questions. 

Julia shakes her head, “David Budd,” she warns, “don’t you dare.” 

David nods, “aye, at your service then.” 

“Good,” Julia replies as she closes her eyes. Sometimes the reasons she married this man are as clear as day.

“The anger then?” David questions.

Julia groans as her eyes open, “can you help me to sit?” as she begins to feel a cramp in one of her feet.

David nods as he quickly moves to sit on the carpet himself, he leans back against the sofa and then he gently hooks his two arms under her shoulders, pulling her up and into a sitting position. He moves his legs and helps her to shuffle back into his chest. She sinks back into his warm body and he kisses her neck, nibbling his way up towards her earlobe.

Julia sighs happily as David wraps his arms around her shoulders holding her close. “Do you realise,” she begins.

“Realise what?” David questions her.

“The President of France sent me a crate of wine. It arrived today. A thank you for our talks last week.” Julia explains, thinking of the large crate that Oliver had brought into her office earlier today. David kisses her neck again and she continues, “he sent me a crate of wine that I cannot fucking drink. Award winning wine, the letter said.”

David stifles a laugh, she’s angry because she cannot drink.

“You’d better not be laughing at me.” Julia retorts.

“No, not at you love,” David explains. “Never at you.”

“Who sends wine to a pregnant woman?” Julia questions.

“Well,” David begins, “you did make a big proclamation that no-one was to treat you any differently while you were pregnant.”

Julia pouted, “do you have to remember everything?”

“Aye,” David replies, “about you I do.”

“Okay, fine.” Julia admits, “you’ve sorted the wine problem. There are still more problems.” She adds as she stretches her legs as best as she can.

David kisses her neck once more, “and these other problems are?” he questions as he begins to massage her shoulders.

“I have a shoe problem." 

“You have a shoe throwing problem.” David retorts.

“Oh those,” Julia replies, gesturing with one hand towards where the broken shoe had landed. “Another pair broken. This baby seems to be determined to have me without shoes until they arrive.”

“We can fix that problem.” David says with a smile. He can see that one of his purchases is going to be well received.

“Well good,” Julia replies as she feels David move behind her. “Because this,” she adds motioning to her belly, “is still your fault.”

David laughs again now, “we agreed it was the fault of the blue dress.”

Julia smirks, “you mean the dress I can no longer wear.”

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I have presents?” David questions as he carefully extricates himself from behind his wife and helps her to balance herself against the back of the sofa. 

Julia purses her lips, “it depends what they are.”

David laughs again, “has anyone ever told you, you are challenging?” he questions as he stands and retrieves the bags he brought home with him.

Julia tilts her head to the side and places a finger on her chin, “not that I can recall.” She says with a smile, “well, actually maybe my husband.” 

“These will solve one of your problems.” David explains as he places the shoe box down in front of her.

“David …” Julia says quietly as she opens the lid to reveal a beautiful pair of shoes, she smiles as she can see no buckles or clips that will break on her. 

“Well we can’t have the PM without shoes. How would the country survive?”

Julia laughs as she holds one of the shoes in her hands.

“Do I need to duck?” David questions.

She shakes her head, “I won’t throw these,” she exclaims, “thank you David.” She tells him as her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, she runs one hand over the top of her bump, “your Dad is pretty amazing,” she says quietly.

David smiles as he moves to sit beside her, “I haven’t forgotten you either Spot,” he says as he unwraps the yellow cashmere from its packaging and lays it across Julia’s stomach.

Julia gasps as her fingers run along the seam of the blanket, she cannot hold the tears back and one escapes and runs down her cheek. 

David nudges her with his shoulder, “you didn’t complain about Spot!” He smiles at her, he has rendered his wife speechless. Something that rarely happens, if it happens at all. He reaches out and brushes the tear off of her cheek, before he leans in to kiss her.

Julia kisses him back as her hands run through the back of his hair, pulling him closer to her. She lets out a small moan as she tries to hook her leg over David’s.

David smiles as he kisses her, “so does this mean that you accept the name Spot?” 

Julia tilts her head back and smirks at him, “never,” she replies, before she leans back towards his embrace.

David moves his head back from her, “what about if I tell you I’ve burgers for our dinner?”

Julia shakes her head, “still never.”

-x-x-x-

Ten minutes later, there is an empty tray between the two of them, the burgers have disappeared, the chips too.

He watches as she licks the end of one of her thumbs, just like she had the first time they’d shared a meal together. He smiles warmly at her, she’d intrigued him back then, she was a perfectly put together enigma.

But now as they sit here, she as his wife, pregnant with their child, her hair sticking up on its ends, her curls ruffled from laying on the carpet, burger sauce on the tip of her nose, he knows he’s never found her more beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> There could be the possibility of another part? Once baby Spot has arrived ... yes? no?


End file.
